


Prizes Beyond Tomorrow

by motleystitches (furius)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Napoleonic Wars, End of the war, F/M, Georgian Period, M/M, comedy of manners, sometimes I don't want to write much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 11:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10436307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furius/pseuds/motleystitches
Summary: In 1821, Capt. Stacker Pentecost leaves the navy, but his plans for a peaceful retirement raising his daughter Mako Mori is disturbed by a succession of unexpected developments between family, friends, and lovers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quigonejinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quigonejinn/gifts).



> For quigonejinn, for being in fandom.

Capt. Pentecost should’ve been made admiral; he had survived long enough on the lists and made enough friends in good places that it would be their interest to see him in the rank, but Napoleon died in St. Helena while Pentecost was the commodore in an action off the coast of ——-  . The end of the war stalled his career. 

After all, a reason must be given by the admiralty to take a ship from a senior captain who had distinguished himself for almost twenty-two years in the service.

With _HMS Terpischore_ , his last command, laid up in ordinary at Portsmouth, Pentecost returned to shore to find the manager of his finances, a Mr. Tendo Choi, originally of San Francisco, assuring Pentecost that his prizes, many and well-invested, had made him a wealthy man. The Hoares was obsequious; the landed envious.

Tendo said also this: Ms. Mori will be ten her next birthday and Miss. Vanessa had met a romantic Leibniz. 

Stacker frowned. 

"Doctor Gottfried Gottlieb, top wrangler of the Cambridge mathematics tripos at fifteen and now lecturer pursuing obscure branches of number theory and Miss. Mori’s governess." He continued, on the strength of his friendship with Pentecost since he was a fourth lieutenant on convoy duty, "Now, if Miss. Mori’s a boy, then you can send her to school."

Stacker told him to stop. Miss. Mori’s not a boy. 

For a man who prided himself on knowing the state of every carronade on his ship, the reminder that Miss. Mori will be ten, then eleven, then twelve, then thirteen, then even older, the lapse he had made in considering her future made his smile a little tentative when he arrived at the neat little cottage where his sister and he had grown up. 

The small girl who greeted him in a torn dress offered him a ceremonial dagger she was wearing as a sword. She had read that captains build their careers on such and would do her part to make him a little happier, even just as pretend. Her English had become fluent, but the joy in her face in seeing him return had a language of its own. She resembled strongly then, despite the physical differences, a mother and a sister who died. And less strongly, but no less cuttingly: all the men and friends who had not survived Napoleon’s ambitions.

And so Pentecotst’s grudge against the appointment of the new rear admiral, Capt. William Gage, the son of a general, while not fully dissipated, nonetheless seemed less harsh.

The war officially ended for Capt. Pentecost, neither with Napoleon’s surrender nor his death, but when he accepted the sword from Mori Mako, named Ms. Mako Mori in England. 

He wrote then, not only to his friends in parliament and his old patrons, but to the banks, to his solicitors, making inquiries of houses and estates for sale.

He also met with Dr. Gottlieb and made a point on the value and affection his daughter has of Miss. Vanessa . Dr. Gottlieb, notwithstanding the apparent frailness in his frame, riposted with surprising strength of feeling requesting Miss. Vanessa’s own thoughts on the matter. 

But Dr. Gottlieb’s coat was frayed, his hair badly cut. In short, his living was meagre and Pentecost knew a good man, a valuable man who would be best employed not starving with a wife and family. Capt. Stacker Pentecost had capital and ambitions for his daughter. Furthermore, while he protected British mercantile interests at sea all his adult life; the commercial and accounting details eluded him.

He asked whether Dr. Gottlieb cared to demonstrate his theories of probabilities and predictions in practice. “Prove yourself to someone who would be dependent on you,” he said, “that you’re more than an idea. Something more than that can be obtained from a book.”

“Like a knight?” Gottlieb asked, sounding very young, very eager. Abruptly, Pentecost recalled that Choi had mentioned that Gottlieb had come from an obscure branch of Teutonic nobility; however, Gottlieb himself walked with the aid of a cane. A little ashamed at his own unwitting manipulation but no less firm in his reasons, Pentecost replied that if Miss Vanessa required a knight, then surely whom she bestowed her favors would know best.

-=-=

After a lifetime at sea, Pentecost disliked enclosures. Soon after Mako Mori’s tenth birthday, Capt. Stacker Pentecost removed himself from London to Yorkshire with his ward, her governess, and one the most mathematically innovative minds in Europe to an estate with a forest, streams, and a peculiar house modeled after a Roman villa, for it also had an atrium in the center that opened to the sky. 

The Gottliebs were enraptured by the mathematics of the architecture. Mako Mori invited the boy she met in the woods to climb onto the roof then down a rope ladder. 

"Charles Hansen, the Honorable," the boy said, meeting Capt. Pentecost for the first time. He made an attempt at a leg after Vanessa led Mako away. The attempt, valiant in its way, as Pentecost was still furious, nonetheless did not stop Charles’ voice from stammering a little. "I’ve come to seek your permission. I believe you know my father, sir. " As Pentecost did not answer, the boy became bolder. "As I’ve not heard that he’s been killed-" 

"Watch your tone, Mr. Hansen," Pentecost said. "Your father will arrive in a fortnight. As my guest," he added.

A series of remarkable and painfully familiar expressions crossed the boy’s face. As he no longer seemed inclined to speech, Pentecost ordered a carriage to be readied and sent him home. Given the physical resemblance, Pentecost hoped that the internal sympathies were likewise similar enough that four miles of winding roads sitting alone would allow Herc’s son to digest the fact that his father had not, in fact, abandoned him, as his mother’s family had told him. Herc Hansen was also a laconic man, though there was little that ever escaped his notice.

Pentecost had not cared to meet Charles’ uncle, his neighbor. Lord E-, Earl of ——-  had similarly made no attempt for a naval captain, though Stacker’s painfully aware that Tamsin had been talking of an opportunity, if not even at the moment engineering one. Stacker did not tell her that he had already invited Herc Hansen, his former first lieutenant and a friend for the last decade even when their times ashore could not be shared when he received his ship.

Stacker Pentecost missed him and regretted the way they parted, but the location of the estate had been by chance.

In the library, Mako’s had cornered a cat and was luring it with a piece of string. It had been a favorite past-time during the voyage.

At his entrance, she looked up and said: “Charles said me to call him Chuck and asked me marry him so he won’t be alone.”

Pentecost felt the pinch between his forehead. 

"I said he has to ask you first."

While the permission the younger Hansen is requesting resolved without further inquiries arising from dread, from Pentecost’s knowledge of Herc, his hope for Chuck Hansen’s resemblance to his father grew conflicted.

"Another few years, perhaps," Stacker said, though never seemed a more reasonable solution. "And only if you wish." 

Mako nodded. “I also said that, but he said he would wait for my answer.”

-=-=

Autumn brought with it red leaves and a carriage rumbling through the park.

Mako, who had been learning trigonometry by estimating height of the trees from their shadows at a desk by the window, promptly wished to abandon her pen to tell her father. As there were 30 trees and she had completed 29 calculations with only two mistakes, Miss. Vanessa said she could complete the rest tomorrow.

“You had footman to open the door,” Herc Hansen said, his hat beneath his arm. Occasionally, Stacker Pentecost hated the size of the house. It had very long corridor.

“There are a great many doors,” Stacker answered, suddenly embarrassed.

“Yes,” Herc said, his eyes travelling through the foyer, to the gilded furniture, up the sweeping stone staircase. “I did not realize you are a rich man.”

“You have not been well,” Pentecost said, wanting to clasp the man to his arms. He clasped Herc’s hand instead. And the hand, rough with calluses, was still strong, though Herc’s smile seemed wane. Pentecost continued, “I read of the engagement in the gazette.”

“A graze,” Herc answered, though his left arm was still in a sling. “The arm’s broken, but it’ll heal. We only managed to slip away undetected by the rest of the squadron because of the fog.”

“A third rate had no business there-“ Stacker wished to go on, but looking at Herc made him stop.

“You’ll not change your mind then?”

“No.” It’s been months. If the admiralty ever regretted their decision, they’ve shown no sign. General Gage lost the Americas, but his son would be a sealord. 

“You’ve not retired, officially.”

“There’s a letter, on my desk,” Stacker admitted. “But Tamsin will have my head if I do so without her approval and she has not yet.”

Tamsin, Lady Sevier to the ton, had written a strongly worded letter against the action. Stacker harbored a notion that his fate was of certain political importance to her, but he had been busy, distracted. The house and park had needed attending; Herc Hansen’s reply had taken a long time to arrive. And when it did, it had been short.

Now he knew the reason.Herc had written with his left hand.

“Is Mako well?” Herc inquired politely.

They had migrated into a sitting room. Herc sat down on one of the chairs upholstered in brocade in this season’s colors. The navy of Herc’s jacket seemed faded in comparison. Herc and Stacker had been poor together with scarcely a pound between them. The silver buckles of their shoes had been painted brass.

“She’s learning the use of a sextant and Greek and doing well in both.”

“She’ll be a scholar,” Herc said, smiling for the first time. “And not put a ship in the North Sea in the middle of winter. I always looked at your slate for the answer.”

“You got it, eventually,” Stacker said. “Though your son luckily has not inherited your aptitude. Else, he’s more afraid of having a girl best him.”

 Herc was still smiling, but Stacker could see the tension in his jaw. “You’ve seen him, then?”

“Mako chanced upon him in the woods. The estates share a border. Charles has a pony he rides.”

“You know, I wondered-“

“I only know that you said he’s in Yorkshire, not where.”

Herc looked away, toward the window. “I’ve only been here a few time. Angela and I met in London. This is the family seat and her brother took an instant dislike to me. I was once here to take his sister again and here again to tell them she died. And the third time, I left my son with them.”

“You had orders,” Stacker reminded him, gently.

“I still have them.“

“Why?”

Herc met his eyes, startled.

“The war’s over,” Stacker said. “Napoleon’s dead. Britain’s victorious. The navy fights the wars of other nations. Whatever we understood and tolerated for the good of the service is gone. And you do not care for admirals.”

“I’ve been in the navy almost my entire life.”

“You are a baronet.” The passing of a distant relative with no heirs, the news arriving on a packet ship a month before shoreleave- it had meant something immense to Herc, until he realised Earls did not consider baronets to be more marriageable than new lieutenants with no connexions.

“And used what’s attached to it to buy Scott his commission.”

“What about your son? You said he believes you abandoned him.” Stacker said, resisting the impulse to leave his own chair. He should be used to the stubbornness by now. “Did we not say that we would share in each other’s fortunes, come that may? I want your answer now, Hercules Hansen.”

-=-=

  
Hercules Hansen had thin lips and deep eyes. Stacker never quite remembered them right in his mind. Close enough to touch, the color changed invariably in the light or the shape would alter ever so slightly from what his memory retained.

Herc looked pained. “Is it better to grow up the son of a poor baronet than an earl’s heir?”

"When we had five pounds between us, you offered your half to me. If I am wealthy, than you are not poor."

"There’s no debt."

“We had five pounds. You and I,” Stacker continued, “and you paid for my dinner because I had outgrown my coat and shoes. I’ve no family except for Mako and Tamsin, but I have friends who call themselves such because this house has many doors.”

 

"Then let me remain the friend who’s an exception," Herc said.

"If you believe that is your exception then you are a fool. Or perhaps I am, for unable to speak plainly what seemed to me something so simple.”

"I’ve never been quick," Herc replied, almost ruefully. "You of all people know that.”

“So when you asked for me to wait, I did.”

Herc bowed his head. Stacker tamped down the vicious tug of satisfaction and stood. Outside the long windows, the immaculately kept lawns held a stretch of parkway similar to the grounds where Luna and he used to play hide and seek with Tamsin. He had hedgerows, tall elms, and a fountain made of Italian stones. Last week, Stacker had given permission to the head gardener to rebuild the labyrinth. Yesterday, the groundskeeper said the deer number enough for a good hunt.  
  
The clock struck one.  
  
He turned around. The grim line of Herc’s mouth reminded Stacker of the expression he wore ordered for continuous watch. “Will you stay to dine?” he asked. “Mrs. Gottlieb, Mako’s tutor, insists on lunch as an example for Mako to prepare her for the inevitable society, but we can eat here.”  
  
“I thought I have outstayed my welcome.” Herc stood. He reached for his hat.  
  
“Did you think I would turn you out ?”  
  
“You said as much the last time”  
  
“I said, Captain Hansen, that I never wanted to see you on my ship again.”  
  
Herc opened his mouth then closed it.  
  
“But I have no ship and likely never will again,” Stacker continued, “there is no danger of it coming true.”  
  
“Semantics,” Herc said. “You waited and I still did not give you an answer. I think I must bid you good morning.”  
  
“I said I will no longer wait, so if silence is your answer then I will take it as it has been given. You are welcome to my house whether or not you leave the service. A friend might do as much.”  
  
“I have an errand in London in two-“ Herc hesitated. “Three days.”

Stacker smiled. “Then you will stay for three days and I will call a doctor to come and look at your arm.”  
  
The apparent non-sequitur caused Herc to frown at the arm he had been cradling close against his body. “The ship’s surgeon had set it.”

Stacker looked at the black binding again, the rough cloth and its terrible shine from the light through the windows. “A physician might know why it's still bleeding.” 

“Nothing escapes you.”

 “I don’t want anything that tries to flee from me,” Stacker said. “Not anymore. The war’s over.”

 “Three days,” Herc said.

-=-=


End file.
